


A New Feeling

by Jennart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other, Y/N being a little sassy, cute cute cute, sherlock is cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 19:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennart/pseuds/Jennart
Summary: John gets a sudden phone call from an old friend, calling for help. The detective duo is on the case.Warnings: Violence, Gun UseSquicks: Y/N in DangerGenre: FluffAll of my reader inserts are gender neutral!





	A New Feeling

The flat that John and Sherlock shared on Baker Street was quiet… for once. John was typing at a steady pace, wanting to finish his latest blog post before the night drew to a close. Sherlock was studying something closely under his microscope, the kitchen counter littered with notes and other evidence.

John sighed as the final words in his post were ready. His cursor lingered over the ‘post’ button. He always lingered, wondering if this was the proper way to show the world what was going on. What if they were wrong? What if they had missed something? Someone? What if a criminal was inspired by the intricate schemes of the people the pair so frequently hunted, details of which were regularly provided by John? With a deep breath, John got over his fear and clicked. As soon as his finger pressed down on the mouse, his phone rang. The thought of his blog fled his mind as he picked up the phone.

“Hello? Who is-“ Before he could inquire as to who had called, he was interrupted. “John!” A desperate voice pled. The army vet heard gunshots in the background. The caller rattled off an address. There was another gunshot, and all John could hear was the drone of his phone as if the caller had hung up.

“Who was that?” Sherlock asked. John’s face let the detective know that something was wrong. He looked surprised and scared, his face turning pale.

“An old friend. One who seems to be in trouble, in fact,” John said, grabbing his coat on the way out the door. Sherlock followed a few steps behind. By the time Sherlock had gotten down the stairs, John had hailed a cab.

“230 Park Avenue, please,” John said. Sherlock could tell that John was nervous, as one should be when a friend is in danger, but the nervousness was overshadowed by the determination that filled the veteran. John was determined to save his friend, and Sherlock knew it would be more interesting if he helped.

The cab pulled up to an old warehouse. Sounds of people moving around could be heard, but the gunshots had ceased. John cautiously crept forward, gun in front of him as he was trained. Sherlock followed closely. The pair walked in, greeted by stacks of wooden crates. Carefully maneuvering around the room, Sherlock and John moved towards the center.

“Hello, John,” A calm voice said. John and Sherlock were face to face with a criminal they had never seen before; he held John’s friend in front of them, a gun to the side of their head. The pair were both roughed up. John’s friend had put up a fight.

The criminal waved the gun around while he talked, the other secure around Y/N’s neck. Their hands grasped at his arm, trying to free themselves, “Well, you’re just in time for the show! The one where I blow your friend’s head off,” the gun was instantly back at the side of Y/N’s head. John gave Y/N a knowing look that they returned.

“Why are you doing this?” John asked. The plan became immediately clear to Sherlock- get the man monologuing. Sherlock looked towards Y/N. Instead of the frantic tugging they had been doing, they looked calm. They were no longer acting, they were looking for an opening.

The criminal rambled on about some slight that John and Y/N had committed years in the past. Whenever the criminal looked at Y/N, they contorted their face in fear. As soon as he looked away, the façade was released and Y/N was calm once more. Y/N moved their hand slightly and John received the hidden message. Y/N was ready, and so was John.

“Let them go, I’m not going to ask again,” John calmly stated, gun trained on the criminal. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Y/N elbowed him in the gut. They had planted their legs just so- one was between the criminal’s. With a flourish, Y/N extended their leg forward and the criminal fell. As he was falling, Y/N swiped the gun from the criminal’s hands and trained it on his head.

“Thank you for the distraction, John,” Y/N said as they made the criminal turn over. Y/N placed their foot, along with all their weight, on his back. The criminal couldn’t move.

“Not a problem, Y/N,” John said as he tossed his cell to Y/N.

“Just like the good old days, right?” Y/N said, as they phoned the police.

“Yeah. Want to come over for some tea?” John asked as the police arrived.

“Sure,” Y/N responded as they walked away from the scene, pocketing the gun that they lost in the scuffle.

Sherlock trailed behind.

Y/N hailed a cab and the trip back to Baker Street began.

The ride was over nearly as soon as it began, and the trio stepped out of the cab. Sherlock tossed himself on the couch, staring at the ceiling, while John began to make tea.

Y/N sat on the chair beside him, a notebook in hand. He watched as their pen flew across the page. From his angle, it was hard to tell what they were writing. He wanted to know.

“What are you writing?” Sherlock asked.

“Why does it matter?” Y/N responded, not looking up from it.

“I’m curious. And bored.” Sherlock trained his eyes on the ceiling, considering grabbing his gun to shoot the wall once more.

“Ah, that isn’t good. John told me how you are when you get bored. Well… To sate your curiosity, it is a log.” Sherlock’s face twisted in confusion. He looked over to them.

“A log of what?”

“A log of things. Experiences, people, thoughts. Whatever comes to mind, really,” Y/N finished the page they were writing on and flipped to the next. Sherlock debated a moment before asking another question.

“Have you written anything about me?” Y/N’s pen paused for a moment. They wrote a few more words before looking over towards him.

“I know I will write you down eventually, but I’m not sure what words to put yet. What about you? If you were to write about me, what would you put?” Y/N closed the notebook in their lap, carefully slipping the small book into their jacket and looking at Sherlock expectantly.

“None of cops I know wear designer clothes and three hundred-dollar shoes.” He looked back at the ceiling.

“Firstly, I’m a detective. Secondly, the question is not if an old dog can learn new tricks. The question is if I am willing to put in the time to change your stupidly preconceived notions.” Sherlock was silent. Y/N pulled out their notebook once more. John came from the kitchen, teapot in hand. He placed a cup in front of Y/N and one in front of Sherlock.

“I have to run some errands. Y/N, would you stay for dinner? We haven’t much time to catch up,” Y/N’s response was instantaneous.

“Of course, John, I would love to.” John slipped on his coat and opened the door.

“Please keep Sherlock out of trouble,” John said as he waved his hand in farewell.

“Hey,” Sherlock said warningly. Suddenly, there was silence once more. He heard a page flip, then another. There was a bit of scribbling, then silence.

“Smart.” Sherlock looked over to his company, the source of the noise. He cocked his eyebrow, awaiting explanation.

“That’s one word to describe you. From what John told me, I would also add observant, level-headed, and… Troubled?” The last word came as a question.

“What would give you that impression?” Sherlock sat up in his chair. This conversation was steadily getting more interesting.

“The look on your face. You’re always deep in thought, as if you were pondering the meaning of existence,” Y/N said.

Sherlock scoffed, “I was wondering what to have for dinner,”

“Well, I never said my observations were accurate,” Y/N rolled their eyes with a faint smile. Silence came once more. Y/N stood up and grabbed a book from one of the many bookcases scattered around the flat.

Sherlock was thinking. Y/N, in fact, was correct in their assumption. He was pondering something. It wasn’t the meaning of the universe, but nor was it what to have for dinner. He was thinking of Y/N. He was slowly piecing them together through the interactions they had, finding out who they were and if they were worth his time. In a few moments, he had his answer. They were worth his time and he wanted to know more about them.

A game began. He would ask a question, Y/N would answer, Y/N would ask a question, he would answer. There wasn’t a moment of silence between the pair.

“Favorite color?” Sherlock asked.

“Favorite coffee shop?” Y/N would respond.

“What is your biggest fear?”

“What do you think is the meaning of existence?”

“Who is your least favorite person?”

“If you could have a meal with anyone, living or deceased, who would it be?”

“What are your goals in life?”

The words flowed from Sherlock’s mouth readily. Most questions he didn’t even have to think; the words were out of his mouth before he could think to hold his tongue. Before long, Sherlock was laying on his back, eyes lazily scanning the ceiling. Y/N was in the same position but on the floor.

The door opened, John walked in. He wasn’t fazed by Y/N laying on the floor. Sherlock noted that this must be a common occurrence.

“What’s for dinner?” Y/N’s head tilted back towards John.

“Ah… I didn’t feel like cooking. I brought home takeout,” John placed a bag on the counter. Sherlock could smell it.

Y/N groaned, “I don’t want to move,”

“Well,” John said, “If you want to eat you need to. I’m not feeding you.”

Y/N groaned again before getting up.

The meal was over in just a few minutes. Sherlock picked at his food while he watched Y/N and John talk. Their conversation was amicable; even with the time that had passed, the friends were talking as if there was no gap at all.

Before long, the sun was setting. Y/N grabbed their coat and headed out the door with a wave.

“Come back soon, Y/N! I need someone to talk to other than Sherlock or I’ll go insane,” John pled. Y/N laughed and gave John a hug.

“Of course,” Y/N waved, “I’ll see you soon,” Y/N moved to leave, Sherlock followed.

Sherlock spoke as he grabbed his coat, “I’ll walk you. Don’t wait up John, I have some things to do,”

Sherlock and Y/N walked down the stairs together in a comfortable silence. The front door to the Baker street flats opened and the pair walked out, Y/N signaling for a cab.

Sherlock’s heart was beating hard in his chest. His hand rested there as he thought. Why was his heart beating so? Why did he want to talk more with Y/N? Why did he not want them to leave?

A cab pulled up. Y/N waved goodbye before stepping forward. Sherlock’s hand grabbed their wrist without thinking.

“That café you mentioned was your favorite… Meet me there tomorrow? At seven?” He didn’t know why he was saying this, but it felt right.

“Of course. Anything to have another conversation with you, Sherlock,” Y/N smiled softly, Sherlock smiled back. The detective had something to look forward to, someone to learn more about… even if that wasn’t totally necessary. He didn’t understand the thought process, but he was excited to research this feeling and find out what it meant. He turned down the street, ready to walk and process this new, exciting feeling that he didn’t want to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am currently working on crossposting all of my work from tumblr. This was originally written 8/29/18.
> 
> All of my reader inserts are gender neutral! If you find a grammar or pronoun error, please tell me so I can correct it! Requests are always open.


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